Seasoned Soldier
by Rin0rourke
Summary: Something was changing between them, unpredictable, even dangerous. He wasn't ignorant of these little moments, when something in his chest would loosen, or clench, or warm. He was forever assailed by the vaguest of déjà vu as he was touched by something that, like the trace of perfume, brushed against his fractured memories. He knew what longing was when it shivered through him.
1. Chapter 1

Seasoned Soldier

Allen woke slowly in the early morning, an odd thing considering his occupation as Exorcist, slow wakings too often lead to death, he had learned that quickly enough on the streets. Yet the foreign sense of comfort fuzzed his brain and left him burrowing just a bit deeper into the embrace of both blanket and lover.

The ache of new injuries, bruises and scrapes and well worked muscles, weighed him down as much as the warm limp arms wrapped around him. An odd thing, waking up with someone beside you, not unpleasant, simply odd. He hadn't expected Kanda to be the type to snuggle.

The events that led up to this strange entanglement encompassed a number of difficult and aggravating weeks, but one supposed the very first crossing of their fate threads knotting it into the net they now inhabited would be that one incident, nearly a month ago, when Allen had taken it upon himself to help a group of finders separate of their mission party investigate a potential innocence presence.

The mission they had been on had been tiring, but otherwise easy. It was nighttime when they were finally able to wrap up and head home, all completed with a confident proclamation of success.

To Allen, a mission in which no one died was always a success, and bystander injuries in this instance were startlingly superficial. With a sigh he rested his head against the cool glass of the carriage, expensive little thing loaned to them from the landowner after their own was destroyed, beyond the narrow window were shapes and shadows, the moon had not yet risen and darkness controlled all, at least on the ground anyway.

He turned his gaze skyward to the endless cluster of stars that made up the sky, the Walting Street slithered through that beautiful tapestry in a river of light that could take ones breath away.

"There are fires out there." Link spoke across from him and Allen brought his gaze back to the world. Out in the distance glowed little circles of illumination, human shapes moving about the blazes. "This is still farmland, what are travelers doing out in the fields?"

"Gypsies." Allen named them, he had seen the thrush dug up along the roadside early that day and smiled a little, knowing some wagon train had been through and helped themselves to a bit of handy kindling. "The fields are still low enough, they aren't going to damage any crops out there."

"The new shoots are delicate, you can't just drive a cart out there and set up camp in the middle of a barley field without doing irreparable harm to a man's livelihood."

"It's likely they settled on a patch of grazing land, see how the brush dips and flattens? It's not very late in the season but enough to have the crops higher than that, some of the tenants must keep sheep or at least a milking cow." Allen grasped at the observation in defense of the intruders. He disliked judgements being passed flippantly.

"Trespassing on a man's land." Link scowled and returned to his book, a new culinary text from the look, "Gypsies." He huffed the world like an insult.

Allen was disappointed, but not surprised at the reaction, the Rom were not a well liked people, what sort of reaction did he think he would get from his prim and proper handler? Still… he could feel that old twinge of sympathy.

He sighed a little and cast a glance at the sleeping Krory, how anyone could sleep in the jostle and jerking of a carriage was beyond him, even in his traveling days the constant movement kept him awake, and at those times he didn't have the luxury of plush feather-down stuffed satin cushions and a dainty brass and crystal lantern. The vehicle rolled over a mound on one wheel and slammed down with a force that made his teeth clack and he tucked his tongue protectively in the back of his throat, breathing through his nose. He much preferred walking. Krory however was an aristocrat, and likely enough well used to the rumble of the ride. Link was just an emotionless statue, he hoped the next jerk snapped the stick he had up his ass.

He sighed and rested his head back against the glass, he was being uncharacteristically short tempered, not outwardly of course but nonetheless he found himself irate, and with no reason behind it considering the unbelievable success they had in acquiring the innocence, a set of candlesticks, silver ones, which had been impossible to remove from a crumbling ancient castle's chapel. Not stuck in place, they lifted easily enough if a bit heavy, but when one attempted to make off with them they would engulf the would-be thief in madness.

The key, as simple as it was, to removing the objects was lack of avarice. Someone like Krory, who had without a thought destroyed many such precious objects and a fortune Allen was still simmering over, the injustice of it all, had easily plucked it from the altar with the careless dismissal of its worth only the truly rich could summon.

Allen had not touched them, he was hardly what one would consider "greedy" but it was obvious money controlled a large portion of his life. He wasn't perfect, wasn't saintly, and the silver could fetch a decent price. Such thoughts fed upon themselves as he looked at them on the altar, it was innocence for Christ's sake he was NOT going to fence them on the sly, the intrusive little nagging thoughts were most assuredly not his own, but that he was susceptible to them put him in a slight temper.

Not that his companions could tell, his mask was impeccable.

Wholly irrational of him to be annoyed, he was after all human and wasn't he forever looking for signs to that very nature? Besides which he was hardly going to live long enough to ever pay off Cross' excessive debts, if the Akuma or Noah didn't kill him the 14th's consumption of his mind would.

No, best not to go down that road, the crescent grin peering out of the reflection of the window, shadow among shadows, pressed in on him like black hysterical panic, he shoved it aside and forced himself to gaze through the glass rather than at it. They were almost lined with the fires, soon they would probably reach a crossroads where the main road branched into a simple dirt pathway.

He could see the black blocky shadows of the gypsy wagons, the barest perceptibility of color as firelight danced across their painted bodies. He sighed a little wistfully, it would be nice seeing one again, even if it was the coach of a common mountback.

"You're sighing often tonight."

He smiled mirthlessly at Link, who observed him over the colored binding of his book. "I just-" he broke off as the carriage jerked to a stop, trying desperately not to pitch forward into the blonde.

He bit his tongue.

"What the blazes is that idiot doing?" Link was up and out of the carriage in an instant. "Need I remind you these are Exorcists you are conveying, not luggage."

Krory yawned. "I don't smell any Akuma." He muttered.

"It's not an attack, I'd know." Allen waved the man back and poked out to get a look." Link's just being a rule monster again." Christ if that man wasn't a bitch about procedure, he honestly didn't know why he liked him so much. "Link don't hound him." He called at the inspector.

"-You can be sure I will report your conduct to Supervisor Lee." Allen caught the tail end of the verbal flaying and stepped in to intervene before the ear boxing went any further.

"Fife." He addressed the Finder at the reigns, "Where is Grove?" He didn't bother asking much more than that, Fife had been a street thief for a band of villains in Italy, he understood little English and spoke nothing at all, seeing as his tongue had been cut out by his cohorts when they discovered he had betrayed them to the police. The fact that it had been the officers who had pulled the information out tooth by painful tooth hadn't mattered much.

The mute pointed a scarred 3 fingered hand away from the road and towards the fires that were now parallel to them. Beside the carriage wheel squatted a moss covered stone marker for the little walkway. Unhooking one of the outer delicate crystal and brass lanterns Allen started down the path.

"Walker, you will not leave this vehicle, you are to report back to Headquarters immediately upon finishing your mission, this detour is not-"

"What if I have to use the toilet?" Allen called back, "what forms do I fill out for permission for that Link?" and could see the way Link's face flushed with frustration. The inspector made a strangled noise and marched off after him.

How Kanda had ended up in this situation, he did not know, and did not bother trying to figure out.

They were with the wrong wagon train, gypsies, ever the deceitful lot, had split into two groups. Tricking the finders into believing the innocence was with this one, and so it was with this one Kanda had met up with. Not that anyone had figured all that out until the first Akuma had sprung its attack. Even a gypsy broke a lie when faced with these monsters, and Kanda's own interrogations were nothing to brush off either.

Annoying enough, being half a country away from where he was actually supposed to be, but now the Finders were insisting on helping the damn people to the nearest town, and Kanda was stuck playing hero right along with them. That, or walk back to the train station, the Gate he came through was half a day's travel from here. What fun.

Almost as fun as the stupid ride in the colorfully painted wagons while people who so strongly distrusted them muttered amongst themselves. It didn't concern him. If he arrived at the other wagon train's location and the innocence was still not there he would start cracking some skulls, beginning with the idiotic finders and working his way down.

"The town is just up ahead, sir. Then we can be on our way." Some person said. A finder, obviously, but he didn't bother remembering their faces or names, and he was far too focused on the trees around them to acknowledge the man.

In a country overrun with valleys and farm fields, they had to be traveling through the one area with a fucking forest.

Gradually the trees gave way to fields, or what had once been known as such. The earth was torn apart with the craters of enormous blasts, the type left behind from Akuma bullets. The people in the wagons made their anxious noises, Kanda kept his hold on Mugen.

They passed places where little roads forked off towards crumbling houses, barns that towered, a cow passed by, crossing the street ahead of them, limping on a lame leg. Food for some predator, living or otherwise.

The atmosphere was desolate, abandoned, war torn, yet it lacked that rancid, too sweet smell of death. No carcasses, no blood. Only the faint, all too familiar scent of ash what stuck to the back of the throat, acrid, and putrid as rot.

"It looks old. Maybe the Akuma have moved on?" A finder sounded hopeful, and Kanda knew no one was going to recommend they turn around and go the other way. Not his problem.

They came into the town limits, and everyone stopped.

Buildings gone dark, rubble from explosions scattered about the streets, smears of blood across stone and brick and mortar, the oiled cloth awning of a shop ly tattered on a single post like a battered war flag.

A small childs toy peaked out from the remnants of someone's garden wall.

All of it lay coated in that ashy powder, the only remains of the people who had once made life here, layering thickly over eachother now in a fine dust that stirred beneath their footprints.

Kanda hopped down, took point.

No, not his problem, but it was his job.

Inhuman cackling filled the surrounding buildings, bleeding out into the empty streets to crest over the small group. Kanda grasped the hilt of his sword and shed it of its sheath, surprise surprise, there were indeed Akuma in this town; he didn't need the Moyashi's eye to know that as the demonic laughter reached an intolerable crescendo of low tones to high piercing shrieks.

The shadows of the buildings did not so much shift as shatter, dozens of stumbling bodies ruptured out in varying stages of transformation, the human corpses that were their costumes discarded as the insanity of their true monstrous appearance spilled like guts from a savage injury, firing projectiles into the little crowd.

One hit the building to Kanda's right, showering him in stinging debris that sliced into his face. More screamed past, striking a woman in the chest, took a child's head in an eruption of blood turned quickly powder.

The Finders sprang to action, barking orders at the gypsies and setting off the contraptions they carried, caging an Akuma here and there in a scramble to clear a path towards cover. The group of travelers were in a panic, pushing against each other, unsure in which direction to go, terrified of the horror that loped into the square. A bullet ripped into a large man's stomach, with wide shocked eyes he grasped at the injury, and in front of his wife and tiny son he died.

Kanda paid them little attention, they were now only so much dust, charging immediately ahead towards a level 2 with a large candy-striped lance for an arm, feigning to the left he dodged to the right, avoiding the sweep of the lance he shot into the opening given, the creature unable to reverse the momentum of the arch of such a large weapon to attack again or defend itself, and drove Mugen into its belly.

Like the man it looked down at its injury, Kanda yanked the sword free and moved on to the next as it crumbled to ash.

The other Exorcists might have been affected by the deaths occurring around him, but he shut it out, remote from the casualties that fed the ever insatiable hunger of war, he slipped into the calm of a soldier. It was a talent that allowed him to do what he needed, what was demanded of him.

His price for existence.

It did not occur to him strategically to attack the level 2s and leave the 1s to the Finder's force fields, nor did he consider using the Finders to help navigate the battleground, such things as planning and coordination were luxuries an exorcist did not often receive, his mind was only to kill what was in front of him, and trust no one at his back. The sounds of battle, the taunts of his opponents, the cries of the dying, were regulated to static in his ears, only the contact of his sword against enemy entered his awareness.

He released his illusions, attacking relentlessly, a single slash would kill a weaker leveled Akuma, but the more powerful used their individual abilities. He drove the blade into the armpit of a grinning insect with impenetrable armor, the soft joint giving easily to the blow, howling in agony as the poison of the innocence exercised its perverted existence.

He thrust at another, ducking low to catch it across the knees. It keeled over onto him and the weight was near crushing but he used the leverage to hurl it over and at another who stood firing bullets from a giant smiling revolver protruding from its comically widened mouth. The injured took the projectiles and exploded in chunks that broke apart and rained down like clods of sand.

His world was simplified to dodge and block, pummel, jerk, thrust, shield, sidestep, slash, every movement a lethal purpose. Sweat stung his eyes and every muscle, tendon, nerve, and bone in his arms burned from fingers to shoulder.

His focus remained constricted, but his body knew the movements without thought. Unlike Allen who used primitive hack and slash methods his sword had rhythm of movement, technique, perfected from hours upon hours of repetitive training, he practically danced around the battlefield in a macabre show of violence and power.

Searing white energy coalesced around his twin swords, crackling up and down the blades, a tendril of power linking them. He rushed the final two Akuma before him, his swords cleaved through them in an impossible number, scoring into their bodies the delicate flower design. Their mockery of life sputtered out and crumbled to powder at his feet.

And then it was over. And then there was nothing.

Nothing but poison smoke and darkness flavored with the scent of battlefield.


	2. Chapter 2

The head nurse of the HeadQuarters of the prestigious and secretive Black Order was a tall, thin, imposing woman who took her duty very seriously. She ran the medical ward with efficiency, and considered the wellbeing of those who called this place home her God given duty.

It was why, in the early hours of the morning, she was striding purposefully through the corridors burdened with a platter of steaming food and a pot of tea.

Allen Walker had returned home that evening from his mission with a minor head injury, according to the report, but had failed, as Exorcists **always** did, to visit the infirmary for a thorough check.

Moreover no one had checked on him in the night, or that morning, and Jerry had informed her he had not yet come for breakfast when she had stopped by to instruct him on Finder Wilson's broken and now wired jaw.

This fueled her ire. Allen always lost weight on a long mission, nowhere else did they have the time or resources to supply him with the amount of fuel he needed to function properly. It was never a serious problem, so long as he was not gone for weeks on end, and with the new mode of travel provided by the Ark such a mission is now almost impossible, but they had still been gone a full five days and he needed a proper meal.

She would give Komui a thorough lecture, again, on the importance of seemingly minor injuries, and have a good long talk with that stone faced inspector charged with Exorcist Walker's supervision. Her first priority however, and the target of her throttling, was the exorcist himself. She would start with the five servings she carried, like bait in a trap, to keep him still while she gave him a quick once over. Then he would receive the verbal flaying she had prepared for him.

Ignoring propriety and courtesy both she turned the knob on the door with two fingers and hip-nudged it open. A medical professional was well practiced in opening doors while laden with supplies.

The room was cramped, exorcist quarters were little more than glorified storage closets and this one had to accommodate two beds, one perfectly made and the other a mess of sheets, both empty. Outside the sun had crested the trees to warm the world and give stronger light through the window, though it faced the wrong direction to allow it to shine into the room.

With a vexed sigh she lowered the covered tray to the dresser and flipped through her mental file on her target.

Allen was not a strong creature of habit, his one true known was food, otherwise he tended to spend his days in any variety of activities with no real pattern. That he was up early after a mission but had not had breakfast said training, or a meeting. She knew he enjoyed training in the early morning but was just as prone to rolling over and sleeping in. His list of friends was endless.

Where to begin her search.

With a firm nod she left the room in long strides, the people around her stepped aside quickly, none wishing to be on the receiving end of whatever punishment her fierce eyes promised.

SS

The church bell peeled the ninth hour and still they were at it. The morning was warm and humid, the sweet chill of the night that had greeted them hours ago had faded with the first rays of the sun and they had long since stripped themselves even of their flimsy sleeveless undershirts.

Puffs of dirt raised around their ankles while they worked through the movements, the clack of wooden swords appeared silenced for a time as the bell chimed its resonating tone. The final dying off and once more the striking of rapid blows could be heard as they scuffed across the designated practice circle, though the line drawn had long since been obscured by their footprints.

Kanda had the advantage in both skill and a whole extra hand, as Allen's innocence arm had been restrained behind his back by interconnecting leather straps. If one asked the Asian it was a harness crafted to help swordsmen practice with their non-dominant hand, if one asked Allen it was for Kanda's personal sexual gratification.

Remarks like that usually resulted in a stinging blow across some part of his body from the flat of a wooden sword.

All in all training with Kanda was pure misery, at first he had requested it in an earnest attempt to better wield his innocence's newest form, now Kanda was prone to seeking him out at random in the earliest hours of the morning for an excuse to beat and humiliate him.

At the moment they were hours into his least favorite of exercises. It came about every few lessons, after he had suitably memorized a string of new techniques and Kanda was content with his execution and form, that Kanda would list off a set of them and Allen would work them diligently while Kanda, free to vary his movements in any manner he wished, countered.

It was a brutal and humiliating arrangement; Allen running through the attack could do nothing as Kanda, experienced in the techniques, easily parried and eventually slipped in past his defenses and sent him sprawling in the dirt.

Kanda **said** it was to help him become familiar with the form and movement, he continually insisted that swordplay was not just about fighting, but grace, power, precision. Allen found that hard to believe when all he had at the end of the day were bruises and throbbing muscles. Though he grudgingly admitted the strength and coordination of his right hand had improved.

They tapped swords and began the sequence, sweat streamed into his eyes, needle pricks of pain jolted between his knuckles and shoulder from previous disarming blows, and his sides ached from thrusts at his ribs. Kanda was drawing every series out, having quickly defeated him in the beginning he would eventually let Allen run thorough a form, bleed it into another, before disrupting the rhythm of their dance to pull some unexpected move when he saw Allen had become lost to it, concentrating on the routine movements and less on his opponent.

He did so now, halfway through a particularly intricate, Allen wanted to say '_flowery'_, form that could slice an opponent half a dozen ways he feinted and drove forward at such an angle that swept his sword behind Allen's own and slammed it right out of the man's hand. It spun out of their circle and towards the brush.

"Do I have to run you through the basics again?" He barked and Allen glared hotly at the demeaning tone, flexing his aching hand. "You're footwork is a fucking mess and you angled the goddamn sword too low. How the fuck are you going to block my attack if you can't adjust? News flash Moyashi, your opponent won't be as short as you."

"I'd just hate to slice that pretty face of yours." His outward calm did not reflect the indignation boiling in his blood. This day had already been going on far too long and Allen had lost any and all will to be pleasant, he imagined he was probably as ill-tempered as Kanda on any regular day.

"You couldn't cut dick with a true edged steel let alone wood." Kanda smacked Allen's thigh with the practice sword hard enough to bruise. "Get your sword and get back in circle."

Allen bit the inside of his cheek against a retort, narrowing his eyes to slits. His head was pounding from last night's injury made only worse by today's relentless verbal and physical abuse. Normally Kanda was content simply to whip him a few rounds and maybe show him a fancy way to swing the sword if they didn't end up in a snarling wrestling pile on the ground, today seemed to stretch on endlessly, and in difference to the miserable headache he had done his best to keep the verbal sparring to a minimum, his fogged brain would only embarrass him with its dulled responses anyway, and Kanda's voice had a tendency to reverberate from one end of his skull to the next.

Now though, as his stomach voiced it's irritation at being more than three hours late to breakfast and the pain in his head caused a disorienting nausea when he dipped to scoop of the blade he formulated a nice little plan.

Kanda had expressly forbidden his little "tricks" in their training, insisting that swordplay was a tool of survival and warfare, an art form, but Allen was not going to run through one more sequence just so Kanda could pleasure himself with the image of him sprawled in the dirt, unable to properly catch himself with his arm belted to his body. The humiliation of it had ceased to burn in Allen's gut now, and instead anger and a desire for payback replaced it.

He had put it off this day, in a vain attempt at avoiding conflict after the night's events, but no more.

Allen once more took his stance and they taped swords, Kanda beginning the 'attack' with a simple thrust that Allen parried, beginning the first of the techniques, he was allowed to choose the order of his forms and had all morning chosen the ones he knew best, he did so again for the first three, and Kanda, predatory eyes ever watchful, let him cycle through, then in what Allen hoped was an unpredictable move he changed pace, slashing vertically from the end of a flowing sweep into the series of crosswise slashes of a far more difficult move, difficult for the effort needed to reverse momentum with each quick stroke. His muscles burned and the wood felt like lead in his hands but he surprised both himself and Kanda with the skill of the attack.

Taking the unusual gleam of approval in Kanda's eyes as an opening he eased his guard, in an illusion of weariness his speed slacked and he purposefully fumbled a slice, dipping the straight cut into more of a curve.

Kanda, his swordplay flawless, took immediate advantage of the opening, and Allen, anticipating the move, dropped to one knee beneath it and rotated the sword in a graceful arc that smashed his knuckles. The grunt of pain and thump of wood to earth brought him a perverse amount of satisfaction. A wiser man would have taken the victory with a smug look and walked off; Allen was not a wiser man.

Allen pivoted and smashed a shin into the side of Kanda's right knee, sweeping his legs out from under him and sending him toppling into the dirt in an undignified heap, and then sat on him, pressing his face into the dirt with an enormous grin.

"What was that about footwork?" He taunted, and the violent childish wrestling began.

Petty and mean of him, to jab and grab, but as he was currently in use of only one arm he didn't care much to let Kanda regain his footing. He wouldn't put it past the bastard to rabbit punch him. As long as they remained on the ground, it wouldn't turn into a roughhouse brawl.

He liked fighting with Kanda, as twisted and masochistic as that seemed. He tried to deny it, certainly felt bad about it often enough, and did his best to avoid conflict when he could, if only for the sake of their mutual friends, if Kanda would call anyone a friend, but once the snarling little pissing contests and casual verbal pokes at each other crumbled into the sweat and blood physical contact he could admit that he genuinely enjoyed their ability to beat the shit out of each other without issue.

Kanda tried to twist away, make a grab, pin him, but if Allen was anything, he was flexible, and in this instance having one arm pinned behind his back was an asset, as it was one less area Kanda could use in an attempt to restrain him. Though Kanda had the advantage in raw physical strength, like a salamander Allen wiggled out of any hold Kanda tried to put him in, they rolled around some, getting their little hits in, all through this they spat their insults, made their threats.

Kanda managed to dig his fingers under a strap pinning Allen's innocence and used it to haul the man close, shove him down.

"Fucking sprout, you're going to regret doing that." The Asian snarled.

"Ohh, scary face, is teacher going to spank me?"

"Someone damn well should have taken a switch to you more often, but I'm not here to satisfy your perversions." Kanda wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he could taste the raw copper of an injury but no blood smeared across it when he looked. "You'll just have to settle for me pounding the shit out of you."

"But that's not satisfying perversions, not at all."

Kanda hit him for that, "Do you want me to beat you bloody? Is that how you get off?"

He laughed dark and nasty, copper in his mouth now too, but unlike Kanda the busted skin didn't close over almost immediately, and a little blood welled at the lip. "I'm not the one talking about pounding boys and beating off."

"That's it, you deserve everything you get."

In answer Allen reared up and slammed his forehead into Kanda's nose, there was a flash of pain in his head from his injury, and a crunch from Kanda's, blood spilled then, dotted Allen's face , and it was that petty meanness in him that had him wrenching his hand free and taking a handful of Kanda's hair and using it to overbalance the man, taking him down.

"Fugging bathard." Kanda clutched at his nose, obviously not expecting Allen to do that kind of serious damage, and he did feel a little guilty, but knew like all the scraped and bruises it would be gone by the end of the day. Allen was dizzy and disoriented, and rolled away feeling sick. "I am going to fucking scalp you."

"Kanda I swear I will throw up on you if you grab me."

"Serves you right, you broke my fucking nose."

"What do you two think you are doing?!"

They froze, hands curled back in each other's collars, mouths in matching snarls. The voice had the immediate effect of causing both exorcists to want to dart away in some small corner and hide. Unfortunately experience had taught them that doing so was… not generally a good idea when it came to this particular female.

The head nurse stormed towards them, wrinkled face furious, her thin lips pressed in firm disapproving line. "Get up, get up the two of you right now."

They stood, Allen a bit more wobbly than Kanda, dizzy and one armed.

"Look at you." She dug a cloth out of her bag. "Just look at this, your face is covered in blood. Tip your head back, press this to it." She shoved Kanda's chin up, pressed the rag to his busted nose. He swore black and blue when she did it, shoving her hands away.

"It's already stopped bleeding, fuck, stop it. Stop." His nose and mouth were, Allen admitted, smeared with blood, like he took a big bite out of some freshly killed game. He felt a little guilty, but also a bit smug, because Kanda had really deserved it, and hadn't believed Allen would actually do something like that. So really it was Kanda's fault. Sort of.

The bit of guilt he did carry though was brought quickly to the fore when the Nurse turned to him with those lightning eyes of hers. He met that stare, though he wanted desperately to look anywhere else. "Smug now, Exorcist, that you've bloodied the face of another?" Although the gaze was merely reproachful, in his mind she glowered at him as if he were some sort of monster, that tiny bit of guilt wilted him under those eyes.

Allen wanted to shrivel away in his boots.

"And just where is that chaperone of yours?" She asked.

"Here." Link emerged from the shadow of a nearby tree, he was very good at hiding in shadows, book and writing pad tucked under his arm.

"Is this how they run Central these days? That their personnel sit under trees and read books rather than watch after their charges?" She accused. The stone faced Link actually winced and a malicious gleam lit Kanda's eyes at the prospect that Allen and the Crow would be the only ones in trouble. "You of all people should know to follow procedure, so why is it you let the exorcist under your care retire to his room without a proper medical exam after being injured in the field?"

Link's stern face twisted indignantly, "I am charged with observing Exorcist Walker, not looking after him, my job is to-"

"Your job," she snapped and speared a finger into his chest, "is to ensure he performs his duties in accordance with the Black Order's micromanaging regulations placed upon him, which includes filing reports and attending to wounds and to report when he fails to do so; and don't tell me it's not your job to remind him of his duties. You have done so countless times before.

"As for you," she transferred that demon glower to Kanda, who kept his face indifferent and a little bored. "Not enough that you shirk your own checkups and throw yourself into training while injured you encourage others to do so now as well? You may heal quickly enough of any injuries sustained in these sessions but should HE pull or sprain or God forbid BREAK something he could be out of service for weeks! You push too hard in these bouts, this is not the first you've beaten each other bloody, and every exorcist injured is one not out in the field." She snagged him by his ear when he snorted and looked away, pulling him down with a string of filth spewing from his mouth, "don't you disrespect me young man, and you will watch your language or I will have you cleaning chamber pots in the sick ward. You are never, NEVER to keep him past an hour in any sparring match after a mission and before breakfast again. If you do, and I hear of it, I will start insisting you receive full physicals after every mission to make certain you are not lying about your injuries in the field. Am I understood?"

Kanda resisted the urge to cringe and nodded.

"You will respond with yes, ma'am."

"Like hell."

She twisted his ear painfully and he snarled. "Your manners are General Tiedoll's worst failing." But she let go and Kanda stormed away.

"Now Mr. Walker, I have left a small breakfast for you in your room, you will go upstairs, change, and eat before making your way to the infirmary for your exam, and if you are not there and instead try and sneak off, I will come searching for you and make YOU strip down for a complete physical in front of whoever else is present where you may be hiding."

Allen swallowed and promised to be there soon.

"Good," she smiled, smoothing the hair across his forehead that hid the welt and bruise. He winced when her fingers brushed it. "I imagine you have the worst of headaches. I'll prepare a cold compress. Wash with cold water first when you clean up, then warm. It will help your sore muscles more, trust me."

"Yes, ma'am." Allen said softly and hurried away, Link quickly following him.

Well satisfied for a job completed she wiped the dirt from her hands on a cloth in her apron and shook out her skirts before marching off back to the infirmary to make sure Jerry brought up the crushed and blended food she asked for Finder Wilson.

It was sure to look and taste atrocious, and she very much looked forward to forcing it down his throat.

Little pleasures.

Ss

The headache stayed with him, and so did the nausea that came with it, but he had a task to perform, and after leaving the infirmary he went straight to Komui's office with Krory to turn in his report, with a copy of his documented injuries.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you Allen." Krory apologized for the umpteenth time.

"It's okay, Krory, I'm the one who got involved." Allen reassured, "Though it all is still a bit confusing."

"That's what happens when you wander off and butt into a fight." Link commented in his condescending way.

"It wasn't a fight, per se, it, well, it wasn't a fight when I got there."

"Not that you'd know, as you do not remember anything, because you almost had your head taken off."

"The man was obviously distraught."

"The _gypsy_ was obviously **deranged, **and we can't be certain he wasn't an Akuma when he did."

"I would know."

"You, at that moment, were no longer a reliable judge, and your eye has shown that it can be blocked."

Obviously frustrated Allen gestured to the meek man beside them. "Krory would know! He said he didn't smell any Akuma."

"Krory was not with us when it happened." Link answered, cutting of anything the older, obviously uncomfortable, man would have added. "And even if human he was, you should not have been so unguarded among them."

"Just what do you have against gypsies?" Allen demanded.

Before Link could answer the door to Komui's office, which they had come upon in their argument, opened and out stepped Kanda, who gave them a disgusted look, Link's face blanked, eyes going flat, all professional now. "We could hear you." He stated cooly, and walked away.

Allen made a face at the retreating Asian's back. "Hear that Link, now everyone knows you speak in more than monosyllables." He turned into the open doorway, "Come on Krory, I'm hungry, want to eat after?"

"Um, I.. uh…" said man stumbled.

"Think of it as a thankyou." He smiled sweetly, "You saved the day with the innocence and rescued me from the dastardly clutches of the evil Roma."

"I really only came in after."

"what does it matter, I'm hungry, want to eat?"

Krory laughed, and Allen could see some of the tension in his friend, put there by the argument, fade away, "Sure Allen. I'll join you."

"Great, because I may have skipped most of breakfast." They moved from the doorway into the room where Komui was watching them with an amused expression.

"Good morning, you three. Interesting argument you had out there."

Allen had the good maners to be embarrassed, "Sorry about that Komui."

"No, no." the man waved the apologies off, "It's good to that one opening up more, he's normally so stiff and silent."

"I know, sometimes I forget he's there."

"Excuse me?"

Allen backed up that statement by ignoring Link's indignant response, and chatted with the .

"So, Allen, I heard a big gypsy tried to clobber you with a fire log." Komui took the folders containing both exorcists reports and set them to the side on his desk.

"It wasn't really like that, he was upset at the finders over something, and when I stepped in I kind of got in the way of the swing."

"He was aiming at the finders?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't remember. They tell me I was unconscious for a few moments, half a minute maybe, but I don't really remember what happened."

Komui nodded. "short term memory loss is typical of a head injury, especially if you lose consciousness. BUT the nurse says that if it was only for a short period, and you didn't pass out again later, you should be fine. Did you visit the infirmary?"

"I was there right before I came. I'm fine. Just a big bruise and a headache."

"Well that's good." Komui noticeable cheered, then turned quickly serious. "I confess I am surprised, the finder's involved mentioned you calmed the man, and the others, but they don't know what you said. Their translator had gone with the other group, when they had split. Allen, I didn't know you spoke the gypsy language."

"Ah." So that was it. "Well, I was raised in a circus as a child." He explained. "It's a little hard to survive in that environment long if you don't pick up on things like that, right? Romani are a pretty big part of circus life, even if you only have one or two with you, because their language mixes with ours. I'm not saying it's always peaceful between the Rom and the Dedicoy, but we, they, can and do get along often enough." He tugged on his sleeve covering his innocence.

"Dedicoy?"

"Ah, sorry, circus folk."

"I see."

Link studied his charge, along with Komui. Allen looked, uncomfortable. Though he had learned something of Allen's childhood, such things were usually offhanded, almost unconsciously, as if he were talking to himself. Link had never pressured beyond a few instances, assuming to do so would cause the young man to close up.

Those years, they were touchy with Allen Walker, who would freely complain about any number of hardships the General Cross caused him to endure. Anything before his joining with Cross? A mystery, one he was slowly beginning to unravel.

"The gypsy, the man who struck you, he called you.." Komui picked up what must have been a report turned in by a finder, "rakalo? And then later… Didikai?"

"Yes."

"What does that mean?"

"It's a term for non roma boys, it's… not offensive, mostly, where gadjo is."

"gadjo is offensive?"

"To be Roma is to be wuzhu, or clean. Outsiders, the gadje, are less clean, less pure, than the Rom. Rakalo are still gadje, but gadjo can and has been used often as an insult, specifically among carnies. The other? Didikai? It means friend. Well, friend of the Romani. It was… is, a very high compliment for someone who is gadje."

"So, would you say these gypsies trust you?"

"Well… I would not go so far as to say that. I am still gadje."

"But they would talk to you, if you asked? More to anyone else here?"

"I would assume so, yes." Allen could see where this was going.

Komui watched him, and Allen could practically see those gears in his head turning. "You are aware, after talking with them last night, that is to say you remember the discussion you had after your injury, that a young child was taken from them?"

"Yes." He said softly, sadly, "Sometime after I regained consciousness is foggy, a few patches missing, but further away from the injury my mind is clear. He didn't hit me so very hard."

"Hard enough to knock an experienced exorcist unconscious."

"Well, yes, there is that." He smiled.

"I'll tell you that those gypsies were part of a larger group, which you likely already got from the finders you were helping, who were guarding an innocence until an exorcist could pick it up. The group split, one going to their destination while the other, a small group, went in a direction closest to an ark gate so as to meet the exorcist half way. Now I don't know why, or how, but the gypsies had without the finders noticing switched the innocence between the two. So that it stayed with the larger, less protected group, while the other went on empty handed to meet up with Kanda."

Uh oh.

"Kanda, understandably, was… upset over the loss of the innocence, and on top of that was involved in an Akuma attack that resulted in a number of fatalities for the finders and gypsies both." Komui laced his fingers and pressed them to his lips. "When we relayed the news to the finders you eventually met up with, it was to learn that the innocence, and a number of people, had been taken into custody at a nearby town. The Finders could not reason with the authorities, and the entire group was run out on threat of violence. When our people got in touch with the magistrate of the town, we managed to procure the release of the gypsies, except for one missing girl and the innocence, which the police claim they never had in their possession."

"I see."

"We believe the girl has been kidnapped, the gypsies blamed us, and as you saw when they heard news of their clansmen's deaths they reacted badly."

"Yes."

"So. Considering the, I won't say respect, but considering the friendliness with which they showed you, after knocking you unconscious of course, and that the others have, after the battle, acknowledged that Kanda can protect them, I believe it would be best for the two of you to work together on this."

I was afraid you were going to say that. "Makes sense." Allen agreed, through a flawless smile with just a bit too much teeth.

"And you hate it, but that's the way it is." Komui seemed just happy all around at that. "So we'll be talking this over amongst the higher ups, we don't know if the girl was taken for some other reason or if she may be an accommodator, but pushing for the chance that she is we can expect swift action in the political department. Later today, or tomorrow, or in a few days, I'll call you both back and brief you, depending on how the details are handled. Right now the gypsies are being housed on land owned by the Catholic church, you may have to speak with them, find out what you can from them."

"Okay."

"Um…" they turned to Krory, who had been forgotten in the conversation. "Could it be that, well, that the Earl killed the girl and, um, broke the innocence?"

Komui adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat. "That isn't out of the question, but if it had been the earl, it is doubtful he would have used such covert tactics as the police. Even if they had been Akuma, or someone the Earl had paid, they surely would have done some other damage. No, we believe this is purely a human issue. Which, admittedly, makes it even more troublesome."

"I see."

"Oh, but go, go! Go eat. Allen, you said you skipped breakfast. I'll call you and Kanda when we have everything in order."

SS

Shitty chapter is shitty. My apologies.

I do love exploring Allen's past as a carnie. I will warn you that Romani is not one language, and the Rom are not all one people, and that many circus folk have poor opinions of the Rom either for competitions sake or because they are oft mistaken as Roma themselves.

Also, the people I met as a child, who taught me about circus life and the culture that goes with it, were a very mixed breed, as they traveled not just one area or country, but the whole of Europe and north America. I favor European slang for Allen for obvious reason, but he will not be a purist parlari speaker. Much of that will, of course, be cockney (ryming and backslang), shelta, Romani, and even a few pieces of polari (because old European gay slang just has to be used.) mostly my reasoning for this is because, aside from the circus Allen was in when he met Mana, they traveled together for a time across (assuming) the UK.

As an aside, I am working on typing up the chapters to Stibarsen that I have finished, my notebook is currently at my mothers, so I will be retrieving it on the 17th, when I go visit for my baby brother's graduation. I am also finishing up a quick update for Curiosity, and trying to get the chapters I have written for PO back from Kola. (Wish me luck on that).


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